


when he comes, tell me that you'll let him in.

by bees_knees, jefferoni (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Arguing, Bottom Alexander Hamilton, Demon Deals, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, M/M, Secrets, Slow Burn, Summoning Circles, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Top Thomas Jefferson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_knees/pseuds/bees_knees, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jefferoni
Summary: Alexander Hamilton, a rather stubborn man, takes a bet from his friends to summon a demon who he knows will not appear, because ghosts are definitely not real. Neither are demons, of course.Right?
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 77
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander mainly just never backed down from a challenge and he craved provocation from other people. The man was too headstrong, too stubborn and too perverse in his ways, some said. Others would say he was just doing it for the attention and approval of others, and that he could not fight everyone at once. As if. Alexander did these things for himself, and he could be sensible and witty. Even if he did stupid things all the time, he wasn’t that dimwitted in daily life and could handle a little scruff or two. 

But today, he had reached a new type of stupid, even for him. A kind of stupid that Angelica Schuyler would be appalled at, most certainly. It all started when in one of his hands, he held his phone, scrolling through reddit.

“I swear to God if I see one more post about ghosts, I will flip my shit.” Alexander grumbled under his breath, leaning back into his grimy futon that Hercules, Lafayette, and John were all sitting upon. John had his feet on Alexander’s lap, the freckled man’s head in Hercules lap as said man ran his fingers through the idiot’s curls, and Lafayette was right next to Alexander, leaning forward to peer at his phone screen curiously with a joint perched in one of his hands. 

Laurens laughed, and the sound was accompanied by the sound of a beer being popped open by Hercules as he stopped combing through the freckled man’s unruly locks of hair. Hercules said something that was completely incoherent that made Alexander a little concerned about the amount he had to drink, before he shoved the feeling away, becoming more focused on his phone again. He scrolled through the subreddit, eyes glossing over the minor posts to find the ones that were rewarded with gold and silver for their doltish actions. 

“No! It’s not funny. It’s annoying as shit and I don’t get how people can be so damn mindless. Like, sure, okay, believe what you want to believe but I’m about to start reporting these posts.” He insisted, looking at his friends with a scowl on his face before letting his eyes fall back down. 

Alexander really did not believe in ghosts. He never did, never will and he’s proud to call himself a nonbeliever, no matter how many incredulous looks he received whenever he stated that much. He actually loved himself enough to not fall to the level of idiots, so here he was now, swiping through a subreddit of summoning spirits and such from the dead. He wanted to gag, because he definitely felt a few brain cells dying, some hanging themselves, and some just running away. He did not blame them in the slightest.

Lafayette grinned at Hamilton, leaning forward to pat his cheek. Alexander leaned away from the touch, glowering up at the Frenchman with a small protest on his tongue from being touched. God, he hated being touched and Lafayette was just that sort of guy. He was all touchy feely and up on everyone. He was akin to a cat, with his expression like he always got the cream in the end. He did not exactly mind it, per se, but in this case, he definitely hated it. 

“It’s okay, mon petit lion. Relax! It’s just posts about ghosts, no? Why are you on the sub anyways, you could just as easily click out of it and let it go for once in your life, hm?” He inquired, eyes twinkling with silent laughter as he ended up prompting another spiel of words from Alexander. 

“Ugh no. Ghosts aren’t real. Spirits from dead people, no! It’s so fucking stupid, Laf. Only old people and teenagers who get spooked by the light turning off all of a sudden believe in that bullshit. And the only reason I’m on this sub _reddit_ is to prove these idiots wrong. God knows they need to be proved wrong, or they’ll keep spreading all of their baseless ‘facts’ to kids and shit like that.” He hissed out, about to scroll again before Lafayette snatched the phone from his hands, hopping up from the futon. 

Alexander scrambled up to sit taller, reaching for his phone, and shouted in protest, a noise that got caught in his throat as the man examined it with squinted eyes. He scrolled for a moment, tapped on something, before shoving the phone back into Alexander’s face, a smug look taking over his expression. 

“Try summoning someone then. Let’s see if that changes your mind and they end up proving _you_ wrong, mon cher.” Hercules made a whooping noise at Lafayette’s words and John scrambled to sit up, taking a peek at Alexander’s screen, looking at the words on the post before he barked out a loud, rather obnoxious, laugh. Alexander shoved him away, the noise hurting his ears before he hopped up too, balling his hands into tiny fists. 

“That seems.. No, it IS stupid. I’m not going to waste my time summoning a ghost-” 

_“-demon-”_

“-demon, whatever! I’m not doing it. It’s moronic.” He shot down the suggestion immediately, rolling his eyes as he cradled his phone close to his chest, a bit protective of it after the Frenchmen just swiped it from his hands so easily. 

Lafayette rose an eyebrow, plopping back down onto the futon, crossing his legs. “No? Are you a, uh, how you say, pussy?” 

Hercules and John joined in a moment later, hopping in on the bandwagon that was making Hamilton suffer, with matching grins of course. 

“C’mon, ‘Lex, too scared?” John pouted mockingly as Hercules laughed behind him. Alexander’s face began to turn a light red, flicking his eyes around the three of them in frustration. That is when he tilted his chin up defiantly. 

“I’m not scared or anything! It just seems stupid to waste perfectly good candles and salt to ‘summon’ something that does not exist! So you guys, tweedledee and tweedledum, can shove those cheshire cat grins of yours up your asses.” He huffed out, narrowing his eyes as he paced around ever so slightly. 

“So you are scared then?” John grinned up at him, eyes half lidded and a bit red, his freckled face slightly flushed from the alcohol and weed in his system. 

"That's the exact opposite of what I'm saying. What I _am_ saying though, is that it’s a waste of my appliances. You know, the things I paid for. So excuse me for not wanting to waste anything I have on something as stupid as summoning something that doesn’t even exist, John." Alexander rolled his eyes in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose in the midst of his words. 

There was quiet for a moment, and Alexander finally thought they were going to finally shut their traps about it, but he could not ever be that lucky could he? He saw Hercules get up out of the corner of his eye, putting his hands on John’s shoulder. The three of them were talking to each other quietly, and Alexander turned around, raising a finger to point at them while betrayal appeared on his face, clear as day. They were conferring on what they were gonna make him do and he absolutely hated that fact. 

"We will deadass give you a hundred bucks if you do it and something does not happen. If something does happen, then well, pay up Hamslice." Hercules piped up from behind John and Lafayette. Alexander stopped his movements, gaze falling on the man who spoke. He eyed his friends, who were all mischievously smiling at him, warily. They knew he was lacking in hours at work at the moment, and they were taking advantage of that. He felt a flare of irritation rise up in him, opening his mouth to protest before he took it into consideration.

He did need a new coffee machine, and it’s not like money grew on trees. Alexander was torn between the decision to reject his friend's money or to take it so he did not seem like he was trying to chicken out. He never chickened out of anything and if he rejected this, then he would never hear the end of it. He glowered at the men before huffing, turning around and shoving his phone into the pocket of his Columbia ridden sweatshirt. 

"Fine. Fine, whatever. Get the goddamned shit for it then and let's go to the table." He barked out, storming to his kitchen. 

He could practically hear the excitement radiating off of the men behind him. 

Minutes later, he was settled in a chair, his leg bouncing up and down from its place underneath the table. His friends were in their own chairs, and chattering to each other as they awaited for Alexander’s next move. There was salt in the entranceway of the kitchen that led to the living room, “just in case”, Lafayette had said. So here he was, lighting candles that were in a circle on the surface of his table. God, he probably looked batshit crazy. 

He rapped his hand against the table after he had set the lighter down on the table before exhaling sharply. 

“The fuck do we do now?” Alexander asked the three who pressured him into doing this, and they all simultaneously shrugged. Alexander huffed, then pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking for the directions. “Ugh. This is stupid.” He muttered under his breath. He tapped on the post Lafayette saved from earlier, eyes raking the words. 

_How to Summon A Demon_

  1. _Get salt and deposit it on any entrance ways near you. If the demon obtains free reign of your house, that could spell serious tribulation and disfortune for you, dear reader, and it could wreak havoc and discord on your life. Be wary._
  2. _Place candles on a flat surface. The flat surface is so they do not fall over and catch your home on fire, haha. Sorry, bad joke. I know. Not the time. Well, anyways, do that and then position them in a circle. A perfect circle, if you can. If the demon does not wish to manifest in front of you, then it will not and the entity can then speak to you through flickering flames and such. Light the candles afterwards._
  3. _Have a cross nearby for convenience, and/or holy water for your own well being. This demon is known to be aggressive and will attack if provoked. Be cautious._
  4. _Repeat the words, “Iseray upyay, ymay emonday.” Two times. Exactly two times. No less and no more. Do not test the demon._
  5. _Be safe and if you’re alive and the demon is not there, take precautions because-_



Alexander turned off his phone, mulling the words in his mind over and over. Thank god he learned pig Latin when he still could. He then set the phone into his pocket, edging forward in his seat. 

Laurens was playing with one of the candles, touching the wax and all before he pulled his hand back when Alexander looked up. “Got it figured out yet, Alex?” He inquired, a smirk of amusement on his face. His face looked a lot more punchable and Alexander huffed out before he nodded begrudgingly. 

“I do, no thanks to you guys.” He retorted, then waited for the others to pay attention. Hercules looked up and then to the entrance of the kitchen, a little nervous while Lafayette leaned back in his chair boredly, the joint still in his hand, taking a long drag off of it before the smoke released itself from between his lips. 

Alexander huffed at him. “You guys are gonna make my place reek of a seedy club by the time you guys die.” He complained, covering his nose. Lafayette responded by blowing smoke at him with a lazy grin.   
  
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Hamilton.” The Frenchman responded. Alexander just glowered, and they held eye contact before Lafayette blinked, tapping the arm of his chair repeatedly. “Now hurry it up, I want my hundred dollars.” He hummed. 

Alexander grumbled under his breath before he began to say the words, slowly. “ _Iseray upyay, ymay emonday.”_ He murmured, watching the candles with narrowed eyes. Nothing was happening so far. Of course. Waste of his time. 

“What the fuck are you even saying?” Laurens laughed, beginning to wheeze, clutching his stomach as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. “Is this what people think summoning a demon is like? Saying some cryptic words in a language that does not even exist?”  
  
“It’s pig latin, you idiot. Are you gonna keep interrupting me or are you going to let me fuckin’ finish?” He snapped. John rolled his eyes and bit back a grin, the three men sharing an amused glance with each other. 

He took a deep breath before he continued, rushing the words out. “Iseray upyay, ymay emonday. Iseray upyay, ymay emonday.” 

They all sat stock still, watching with wide eyes as.. nothing happened. The salt was still in place, and all of the candles were still lit, the flames twitching and writhing on the wick of the candle. It was silent for a moment before Hercules slapped his knee, making the rest of the men jump in surprise at the sudden noise. They sent glares at the man, but a loud laugh falling from his lips before he fell into a fit of laughter. 

“Okay, hamslice, it looks like you’re getting your a hundred bucks from us then.” He said gruffly, a wide grin on his thick lips before he hoisted himself up, walking out of the kitchen. Laurens and Lafayette gaped at that man before scurrying after him, complaints falling from their lips. Alexander sat at the table, looking at the candles for a second before rolling his eyes, blowing out each one. He heard a distant noise as one of the candles was knocked over, a curse falling from his lips before he set it back up, running to the washcloths he kept in the drawer underneath his sink. 

He snagged one, slamming the drawer shut as he turned on the sink. He knew it. He knew that he was going to be right. Perhaps that is why Hamilton would always bite the bullet and why he always threw his hat into the ring. He began running water on the cheap fabric before returning to the table with a huff, scrubbing at the wood. 

As he scrubbed, he thought to himself. He was always right. No matter what his friends did or what others said, he was definitely always right. One could say that he had some sort of complex, but here he was, with no demon in his house and no bodily harm done to him. He grinned to himself ever so slightly. 

Once the wax was.. mostly cleaned up, Hamilton set the washcloth down onto the stained surface of the table, discarding it as he began to follow after his friends. As he reached the line of salt by the entrance, he kicked it with a self satisfied smirk, and followed after the other men, hands resting on his hips as he looked at the three who were currently rummaging through their wallets with looks of annoyance. 

“I told you guys that ghosts aren't real.” He hummed, then crossed his arms over his chest. Ghosts are not real. And neither are demons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed! leave a comment if you enjoyed this! and kudos! it would be very much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor means Alexander gets a morning he didn't bargain for.

Curtains have one soul purpose when day reaches night. To block out light and allow the occupant sleep. Alexander's curtains were not good at this. 

Beams of hazy golden sunlight streaked into his bedroom, through the parting in his dull grey curtains. He groaned and pulled his comforter up and over his head, shrouding himself in fluffy darkness. The digital alarm clock on his bedside table flashed in cherry red numbers, 5:27.

Alexander, poking his head out from the cover, scoffed with half lidded eyes and rolled back over. Nope. Far too early for literally anything. He would much rather slam his face into a pillow and forget about the world outside his window.

As he shifted to face the other way, he took a second glance to the shadow in the corner. Where his armchair sat, in the bottom left corner of his room, there was a tall shadow. Placing a hand over his chest to feel his heartbeat Alexander mentally scolded himself for being frightened. It was most likely a pile of clothes he had tossed there for days on end. 

He was about to flutter his eyes shut and drift off again, after all, it was a Sunday. Sundays are for resting, scrolling YouTube for hours and living like a hermit crab. Trapped in a shell, and having a great time while doing so.

But then, the shadow moved. 

Alexander forced his eyes to focus, this was sleep deprivation getting to him surely. His brain was playing a twisted trick on him. There was some sort of practical, logical explanation. Live your life by facts. Facts spoke louder than fiction. Facts, facts were the key to the future. That is something Alexander wholeheartedly believed. So why he called out into the darkness, he did not know. 

No appropriate response. Of course, he chuckled to himself, how foolish. As if he was losing his mind over his eyes playing awful pranks. He lay back down with a delighted sigh escaping his lips, rolled back his shoulders and grinned to himself. 

There came a noise. A swift, quiet cough. Like one a professional would do into their fist when giving a presentation. A cough used to clear one's throat.

Alexander bolted upright in bed, clutching his comforter to his chest. The childlike feeling of believing a monster to be hiding under your bed, or perhaps in your closet creeped up on him, overtaking his mind into one of sheer disbelief and panic. "Who's there?" He shivered, a pair of pupils were most certainly on him. He could feel them burning into the side of his skull, attempting to read his mind.

He reached over incredibly slowly and flicked on his side lamp with the ring finger of his left hand. "Show yourself, damn it." He breathed out with a feline like, narrowed stare into the illuminated room.

"Ah, so you are awake. I was beginning to think this was a gargantuan waste of my precious time." A sultry drawl replied from the armchair, and the all too familiar sound of a book snapping shut flaunted it's way into the room.

Alexander averted his eyes to the armchair, which was partially illuminated in a dim ring of yellow tinged light. 

The figure was poised in the armchair with one leg crossed over the other, one elbow propped up on the arm of said chair, and the other resting on his thigh. "It's the utmost pleasure to meet you."

"Who the fuck are you!?" Alexander gesticulated into the air, hands waving madly as his brain clambered for a reasonable explanation to what was going down before him.

The figure gazed at him with cold, unmoving eyes and fixed a cool smirk to their face. "Of course, excuse my manners. Thomas Jefferson, at your service." 

Alexander edged himself away from the man, using his feet to push himself back. The end of the bed was nearing and that forced him to a stop. "Okay that's nice and all, but how the fuck did you get in my house?" 

Thomas' stare was awfully bleak as he studied Alexander. "Well good man, by my understanding, you summoned me here." He gave a weak smile, and uncrossed his legs, the book he had been previously reading intently vanishing in dust with a brisk snap of his fingers. 

Alexander blinked ever so slowly and broke out into quiet laughter. "You're a crazy person! I didn't summon shit!" 

"Not a person," Thomas corrected, flicking his nails, cleaning dust from under them. He cleared his throat and rose to his feet, "anyway! So this isn't an utter waste of time, what is it you're willing to trade for? I have more... important souls to attend to."

His last statement was a lie. Thomas spent most of his time being called to thirteen year olds birthday parties, when they'd laugh and ask for a pony. Thomas always left those arrangements at the speed of light. He deeply misses the 1600 and 1700's, where people were serious about demonic matters. Another time period he recalled fondly was the 80's. People really started liking demons around that time.

Thomas fixed his dull magenta waistcoat, he didn't look particularly demon-like. "Hello? What is it you want? Eternal life? To be irresistible? I can do anything, all you have to do is shake my hand."

Alexander's jaw fell open, gobsmacked. "First of all, fuck you I'm already irresistible. Second, get out of my house!" He argued defiantly.

Thomas looked the small human up and down before scoffing to himself. This situation could turn very fun, very fast. "I see, I'm practically drooling at the sight of you." Thomas let a smirk drop onto his cheeks, using a pointed finger to look him up and down, his shoulder length hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all directions like he'd gotten caught on an electric fence. He was sleeping in an old grubby t-shirt, with holes in the shoulders from moths having a field day in the closet, along with a pair of old shorts that were stuffed in the back of a drawer.

Alexander studied him, this guy looked like he had stepped straight out of the 1800's, and he swore that he was holding a book earlier. Did he imagine that too? Was this all some weird lucid dream that he couldn't escape?

"I believe this is the point where you inform me of your name." Thomas spoke acerbically, an eyebrow raised.

"Why would I tell an intruder my name?" Alexander crossed his arms in defiance and sulked.

"Fine, guess you shall be mortal in my mind then," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Now, let's move this along. You need to shake my hand and tell me what you want. I can't kill people, bring back the dead or anything extravagant like that. Reminder, this is costing your soul and eternal damnation, so choose carefully." Thomas sounded like a cocky game show presenter speaking of the ultimate prize of the show.

"I don't want to sell my soul! I like it! Just get out of my house!" Alexander pushed himself out of bed and stood up to Thomas. He glared up, only a little intimidated by his height. 

"Then I'm gone," he extended his hand for a shake, a goodbye shake.

Alexander faltered and pulled his own hand in. "I ain't shaking your hand." He muttered as he brushed past him towards his kitchen.

"Why not? I thought I was just a crazy person?" Thomas uttered after him, charging behind him.

"You are! This is just a dumb prank by my stupid friends, they believe in all this shit and they're trying to make me believe too. You're not very good at acting, what is this get up?" Alexander scolded insistently, boiling his kettle. "I thought I told you to leave."

Thomas hopped up on the kitchen counter, ignoring the perfectly grand dining table and chairs. "You have, but I can't until I get a shake."

He was finding this thoroughly amusing, watching this mortal shake with rage. He was telling white lies, just little ones. Thomas could quite simply up and leave, but this was the best entertainment he'd received in the past few years.

"Fuck off." Alexander slapped Thomas' hand away from him, as if he were a pesky bee.

He sipped his coffee. Please let this be a prank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! This chapter was written by CrowleysGlasses and I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Alexander was currently sitting at his kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee in his hand as he eyed the man across from him suspiciously. He raked his eyes over the man, taking in every inch of the most irritating person he had ever met. Demon, human, waste of space? What would he even call the other at this point? Well, he hadn’t the slightest idea but he could not help but to be just the slightest bit intrigued. If this man was truly a demon, then he had many questions about the afterlife.

But his ideals would be swept to the side if that would happen and he was just.. Burning with curiosity. He did not want to throw away the foundation he had become accustomed to. Could you really blame him? A demon just pops up one day and says he wants your soul? He did not know how to function, so he just took a gulp of coffee. The liquid trickled down his throat, keeping him grounded to reality as he watched the man on his counter look around the apartment with a lazy smirk. 

He sort of reminded him of a cat. Lazy in his movements, so satisfied. Sitting on his goddamn counter when there was a whole fucking table open with no other person. He felt a flare of annoyance rise in him before he shoved it back down. He cleared his throat, the demon’s eyes landing on him. The curly haired man raised an eyebrow, tilting his head back. 

Alexander could see his Adam's apple clear as day, his jaw with a jawline so sharp that it could cut glass being raised ever so slightly in question. The smooth expanse of the skin on Thomas’s throat was exposed and he forced his eyes away. He may be hot, but he was an utter asshole. He forced himself to connect his eyes with Jefferson, tearing his eyes away from the display. 

“So like.. Are you going to be leaving anytime soon or am I just stuck with you?” Alexander inquired with a dry tone to his voice. He watched as Thomas tilted his head to the side, his head going back to its normal position instead of the indolent way he presented himself before. 

"Mmm.. no. I think the latter!” The demon flashed a grin at the other man, leaning back lazily. Alexander narrowed his eyes at the man, tightening his grip on the mug just a bit as the other eyed him. 

“But _why_?” Alexander pressed the question, his heart thumping in his chest just a tad. 

“I told you, darlin’.” He couldn’t even look the slightest bit ashamed at the pet name. Alexander clenched his jaw. “I can’t leave without your precious soul.” Thomas reminded the shorter man with a small wink, then crossed his legs, propping his elbows on his thighs. He rested his facial hair ridden chin in the palm of his hands, smiling down at the now affronted human with amusement twinkling in his dark brown, hooded eyes.

“Precious?” He sneered ever so slightly, pressing a hand to his chest in the midst of his indignant words.

“Mhm. Yeah! You have quite the appetizing energy just wafting off of you.” Thomas waved his hand around idly. He inhaled deeply to show his point, as if it was the most normal statement that could be stated in a conversation. But Alexander was having a conversation with a demon, so he did not know why he even expected just the tiniest bit of normalcy. He took a step back whilst holding his mug close to his chest.

"That’s a really fucking weird thing to say.” He took a sip of his black, bitter coffee, quirking a questioning eyebrow up to prompt the man to explain his weird choice of phrase. 

“I think it’s more… informative.” The other hummed back, a solemn look twinkling in his eyes as he nodded to confirm his words.

" _Informative_?" Alexander scoffed. “You just called my soul- ugh, nevermind.” He cut himself off. He walked to the fridge and then grabbed the small plastic cross that was hung up by a magnet, a neon yellow sticky note stuck adjoining it. He couldn’t be bothered to study the note and examined the object that was dangling by a cheap chain that felt as if it was manufactured and set to the ninety-nine cent store, rather perplexed. 

He heard a slight shuffling behind him, the sound of dress shoes hitting his kitchen floor ringing out in the sudden silence between the two men. He turned around, a little confused at that and then heard the sound of someone hissing, the noise just a tad unsettling to hear. His eyes widened ever so slightly as Thomas suddenly held a more serious expression on his face, a finger outstretched towards him.

“What the- hey, put that down.” He barked out, taking a step forward, trying to act intimidating, but he could see the discomfort clear as day glistening in his eyes.   
  
“What..?” Alexander questioned before he grinned widely, realizing what was going on, holding out the flimsy cross in front of him, letting it swing back and forth hypnotizingly. “Oh, you mean.. This?” He took a menacing step forward.

He watched Thomas stumble back, a pained look flashing in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing together in outrage as he watched human threaten him. Alexander just bore a grin on his face, getting the utmost pleasure out of him finally getting the upper hand in this little.. Interaction with the other. 

“Yes! Put it down!” Jefferson hissed out, the pupils in his eyes turning into slits. The human saw sweat actually begin to bead at his temple and then realized how much of an effect this was actually having on the other. Out of the slightest bit of pity, he lowered his hand, taking a small step back. He watched Thomas relax just a bit, but he was still on edge. 

“I think not.” Alexander mused, then examined the cross with a look of joy.   
  
“I am not kidding around. Put it down before I make you.” The other warned with an angry look.   
  
“Uh, I don’t think you can make me when you’re cowering before a plastic necklace.” Hamilton scoffed out.   
  
“Put it down!”

“No.”

“Mortal-”

“It’s Alexander. You know my name now, congrats!” He remarked sarcastically. “Now, get out before I put this to good use.” Alexander tilted his chin up ever so slightly, a smirk on his lips as he stared the other down.   
  
“I told you, I can’t leave without your soul.” Thomas huffed out, gesturing his hands around to get his point across. Hamilton watched as a cane materialized in his hands and he blinked in slight fascination before a wide grin appeared on his face.

“You mean my _delicious_ soul?” He questioned mockingly. 

“ _I did not say ‘delicious’.”_ Thomas protested, his outraged expression becoming more apparent with each passing moment. 

“Hm. Are you sure about that?” Alexander taunted. 

“Damn it-” Jefferson pointed the cane at him, to act as a barrier of sorts to ensure that Hamilton would not be able to approach him with the crucifix. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand in exasperation. “Okay, we can talk about this, alright?” He tried to reason.

“No, fuck you.” The other dismissed. 

“I-” The demon glared down at the frustrating little human, “you _asshole-”_

Alexander gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “Oh, how eloquent of you, Mr. Demon.”

“I won’t attempt to steal your soul if you put that _thing_ away!” Thomas held his hands up in surrender, eyes glinting with vexation.

Alexander paused at that, flicking his eyes around Thomas’s face for any sign of lies and was pleased to find just a smidge of desperation dancing in his gaze.

“Hm.. I want something else on my end.” He hummed back. He turned around to examine the note and saw the familiar, neat scrawl of Hercules’s handwriting. So the fake cross was left by him? Typical. Alexander snorted at that and then swivelled back around, meeting Thomas’s displeased expression once again.   
  
Thomas did not even attempt to hold back the irked groan that caused Alexander to narrow his eyes. “Oh, whatever could that be?” 

“Keep that attitude up, see if I put this away.” Alexander hissed out before he exhaled to calm down. “I will put it away if you answer each and every one of my questions honestly and thoroughly.”

Jefferson fixed the shorter man with a _look_ as if that was unreasonable!   
  
“That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?” He probed with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“I have the upperhand. You ought to listen to me.” Alexander shot back, taking a threatening step forward with his hand outstretched, the cross dangling carelessly. Thomas hissed in discomfort. 

“My Satan!” He cursed out, the hand holding the cane tightening to the point his knuckles turned white. “Fine!” He then fixed Alexander with a look full of mirth. 

“Handshake to seal the deal?” He inquired with a small smirk. 

“Fuck off.” Alexander sneered and then hung the cross back up on the fridge, watching as Thomas’s eyes tracked the movement. 

“You said you’d put it away.” He protested, his tone dripping with chagrin. 

Alexander huffed. “That IS putting it away. I’m not openingly threatening you with it right now, am I?” He retorted. 

He then finished off his coffee and set the mug in the sink, taking a step back. He promptly turned around and swaggered off to the living room, his hair fluttering out behind him due to the sudden gust of wind. He heard Thomas huff like the mature adult he was and just ignored the noise, rolling his eyes in response. Not that Thomas could see the movement at all though and just sat on the couch, crossing his legs. Thomas trailed after him, opening his mouth to say something that would surely piss Alexander off, but stopped when he saw the TV. He visibly brightened, beaming before rushing over, tapping at the screen, then frowned in perplexity. 

“Why didn’t it do anything? Explain, mortal.” Jefferson demanded rather rudely, causing Alexander to huff with displeasure. 

“First of all, it’s Alexander.” He corrected abruptly. “So no more of this ‘mortal’ bullshit, okay?” He grumbled. “And it’s a TV. I thought you were more educated than this.” Alexander taunted the man, _(demon, he corrected in his mind with disdain)_ , just a little bit.   
  
“Tee- what?” Thomas squinted, disregarding the last sentence. 

“TEE-VEE.” Alexander raised his voice, sounding it out condescendingly as he pulled the remote from the coffee table, pressing a button. 

Jefferson watched, seemingly captivated by the simple gesture and Alexander could not help but wonder how long it had been since the demon had been introduced to modern technology. 

“Do you not keep up with culture nowadays? None of these new innovations and shit are familiar?” He questioned curiously. Thomas looked over his shoulder at the question, then shrugged, turning his attention back over to the TV. He traced his hand over the screen, a small smile on his face at the glowing box.

“Not particularly, no.” He answered absentmindedly, a bit distracted in all honesty, his mind occupied as he tried to grasp the mechanism of the appliance. “When I’m summoned, I am more focused on getting a soul instead of marvelling over these intriguing gadgets.” 

Alexander felt a small smirk beginning to tug at the corners of his lips. “..So you do not know what most things are?”

“Flip things are something, right? Other than that, I’m not remarkably educated on such matters.” Jefferson hummed.

“Flip phones?” Alexander huffed in amusement at the weak choice of words. 

Thomas waved his hand flippantly. “Yeah, that.”

“..so do you know what porn is?” Alexander grinned lazily. 

The demon stilled his hand before he turned around with a bewildered expression. “I- a what?” He tilted his head. 

“You know..” Alexander made an obscene gesture with his hand, then another one involving both hands. 

“Oh-” Thomas’s face turned pale at that before it burst up in flames (metaphorically, of course), a choked noise falling from his throat. “I- why would I be interested or give even the merest thought to that- why would I- are you trying to tell me something here-” 

He was cut off by the sound of Alexander wheezing as if it was the most uproarious thing he has ever heard. He just glared at the man as his face calmed down. Alexander ceased laughing, but small chuckles still escaped his throat, raising an eyebrow at the other man when he saw the unamused expression on Thomas’s face. 

“Dude, it was a joke!” He grinned and if looks could kill, Alexander would be out. 

“You’re not extraordinarily humorous, Alexander.” Jefferson drawled out, holding his cane as he leaned forward with a contemptful look. 

“I didn’t ask for your input.” The human scoffed, rolling his eyes before he patted his chest in satisfaction. “I could be a comedian if I wanted to-” It was the demon’s turn to break into thunderous laughter, bending over at the waist, one hand slapping his knee while the other held onto his cane.

“Now that’s hysterical!” He chortled, unaffected by the baleful, affronted glare Alexander sent his way. 

This was going to be a wild fucking ride, wasn’t it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thomas is a prude™
> 
> also, Crowley doesn't know what fucking tacos taste like. they didn't know what SOFT TACOS were. they're crazy😔


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander can ask any question he wants, he doesnt hold back.

"So you'll answer any question I have?"

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning eloquently on his cane which was planted firmly on the ground. He had sat down in the armchair across from Alexander in the sitting room. 

"For the very last time, yes. I suppose I am obligated to answer whatever preposterous inquiry you throw my way," he envisioned all too well this going extremely far south at exquisite speeds.

Alexander cracked his knuckles, the soft sound ringing out in the uncomfortable silence settling between the two. A clock ticked away in the background as the time neared ever closer to late afternoon. Just from his demeanor, Alexander could sense the agitation radiating from Jefferson as he pondered his first question. 

His eyes lit up with mischief and mirth, before he cleared his throat with a swift cough into his fist. "What year have you stepped out of, your sense of fashion is hideous," Alexander declared. He deduced to start off light with his interrogation, perhaps convince this demonic presence to trust him enough before,  _ bam.  _ In all honesty, Alexander wasn't sure of what  _ "bam" _ was yet, but he knew he could figure it out when the time arose. 

He went straight in on the way Thomas dressed himself which was - to be frank - appalling.

Thomas muttered under his breath, something that Alexander couldn't quite make out. The ravenette let his eyes roll, before he retorted. "Straight from the good ol' 1600's, my dear." He curved his leg around the bottom of his cane, holding onto the polished top. He supported most of his weight onto the sturdy wood, his posture somehow portrayed as the epitome of relaxed yet simultaneously confident.

Alexander reclined into his sofa, processing the statement with a bewildered gaze. He knit his eyebrows together,  _ 400 years. _ He watched intently as the demon continued with an infuriating sense of entitlement. "And - might I add - my style is perfectly fine. Perhaps it isn't… as modernized as the rest of the world is." Alexander had expected a long, drawn-out,  _ "but!"  _ Instead, he was met with disappointing silence.

Thomas' ( _ frankly lazy)  _ physique brought him to kick his legs over the arm of the chair, tilting his head back. He looked like a snob at a party, caught in the midst of tossing his head backwards in uproarious laughter. But Thomas wasn't laughing. He was listening.

It dawned on Alexander that Thomas was seeming eager to answer all his inquiries. Thomas adored to speak of himself. To ramble on about his own achievements, to be gifted the opportunity of a conversation about himself was a blessing to the demon. Or at least that's what Alexander understood thus far.

Thomas flicked his cold gaze to the human, tracing his figure with a wary eye. His harsh expression stayed put as he balanced the now unneeded cane against the armchair. He fixed the adorned waistcoat, before giving into the insecurity of not appearing his finest and removing it. He clicked his fingers with not an ounce of amusement, and the ancient jacket ( _ the type that belongs only to be worn by a mannequin as part of a museum exhibit _ ,) disappeared. 

Alexander took to speaking, as it was clear Thomas had no plans too. Seeing as the demon was extremely comfortable talking well of himself, he was intrigued by just how much of a prude this man was. Sure, he was flustered over the mere mention of pornography, but many people were. Curious of how easy it was to make the man uncomfortable, he let an all too smug smirk settle on his lips. 

"So, what about sex?" he leapt directly into a blatantly uncomfortable topic, simply to see the poised demon squirm. "Do demons fuck?" Alexander had no problem discussing such acts, acts that to Thomas were strictly taboo. Not to be spoken of, ever. The world had obviously shifted gears since Thomas' reign of terror.

He waved his hand idly, much as Thomas had done earlier. He gazed on, self righteousness glinting in his pupils as the once elegant man became a shocked mess. His once fluid motions and relaxed, laid out position turned tense and uptight as he planted his feet on the floor.

Alexander actually laughed, the demon was pathetic. He didn't bother concealing his obnoxious amusement as Thomas fumbled with words. 

"I- what! What does that- I-  _ Excuse me!? _ " The demon fidgeted with his hands in his lap, a distraction.

Hamilton felt more laughter wrack his body. Thomas sounded so - purely -  _ offended. _ It was simple hilarity to Alexander, he could practically feel the seething defensive nature in the thick atmosphere. "You heard me. Answer the question.  _ Do demons fuck? _ "

Thomas wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, wishing for nothing more than to stand and waltz away from the interaction. However, the  _ terror _ of being confronted with a cross frightened him more than this question. 

"Of course not!" Thomas sputtered. Alexander had despised the past discomfort, the type that washed over the both of them. This kind, this was different, this was hilarious. Something he could get behind. 

"Not even with mortals?" Alexander interrogated, falling perfectly into the role of Jacob Peralta, a young, upcoming detective for the NYPD. If he was the cop, that made Thomas his main suspect, a possible criminal. And now it was his job to blow the case wide open, all he required were answers. Answers that Jefferson would give him whether he cared too or not.

Alexander had spent a  _ lot _ of time fantasizing about the fact he  _ could _ just fake his own death, create a new identity and restart as a detective in the centre of the city. But everytime he thought about it, his imagination drifted to how shocked and upset his few friends would be over his " _ passing _ " and that stopped him in his tracks.

" _ Especially _ not with mortals!" Thomas was seemingly ashamed, of who? Alexander couldn't decipher.

Thomas raked a shaky hand through his mess of curls, a shuddering breath slipping past his chapped lips. Alexander could only chuckle. Boisterous, snorting laughs ripping from his throat as he keeled over. 

"You! You're  _ pathetic! _ " Alexander managed to have out, saying it in regards to Thomas' astounded, disgusted reaction. "Jeez, you crack me up." He wiped at a single tear forming in his right eye, a coincided smirk laying across his cheeks.

Thomas knit his eyebrows together, pouting. He reminded Alexander of a toddler who had been denied ice cream and about to go into a furious tirade. Instead of doing that, the - "mature" - adult crossed his arms over his chest, a defense mechanism. 

"Okay, okay, okay," Alexander gained control over his thoughts, sighing deeply. "So," he started with a purr, balancing his peach-fuzz covered (well not  _ covered,  _ but there was certainly an  _ attempt _ to grow some sort of facial hair,) chin in his hand, placing his elbow on his thigh. "If demons  _ never  _ get down, that makes it… what? 400 years since you dicked down?" He flicked his eyes over the demon, unable to sus the man out. He was such an odd personality, uptight and defensive, yet so narcissistic.

Thomas wasn't sure he quite understood the modern… lingo. Was lingo still an acceptable word to use? Or was it something a social outcast would use if they were from the 70's? 

Alexander tapped his fingers off his leg as Thomas opened his mouth to speak. "Well, I suppose in that case you would be correct, although I do  _ despise _ your phrasing," his eyes rolled, despising the fact that this  _ mortal  _ had bested him in his own game. Trickery.

He imagined this was enough questioning for the time being, and instead stretched up and out across the couch.

Thomas examined him, the way his shirt rode up to show his midriff as his arms came up. The slight curve of his hips showed, but then his arms were back down. And Thomas was looking away. A deep crimson covering his cheeks.

He wiped back his hair, what a day this morning had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, make your characters giant fucking prudes. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter isnt as long, I completely forgot about the update schedule (every Friday) and only started writing on Thursday. Even now, it's technically Saturday for me. (00:10, fuck you, bee.)
> 
> Dunno if you can tell, but uh, I really like italics.


	5. Chapter Five

The day passed as uneventfully as it could, with a demon suddenly making its way into Alexander’s life. Alexander had seen this weird, weird man make himself comfortable but also stay so tense at the same time. He looked poised to attack Hamilton, to defend himself, at any time, and said man could not help but feel the slightest bit guilty at that. He squashed the feeling quickly because c’mon. This dick came into his home, so he shouldn’t feel bad because of that! Yeah, fuck him. 

But not literally. Because. Wait. 

Woah. When did that thought start making its way to the front of his brain? He bit his bottom lip, gnawing ever so slightly. He had just met this literal dickbag this morning. What the fuck. Well, he was attractive. He was a demon. Was his life a shitty version of Twilight now? Really? He wanted to groan out loud, but he didn’t want to seem.. Creepy in front of Thomas. But Thomas was a literal demon who broke into his house, so why should he care about what he thinks? Why was he thinking about having sex with him too? 

_ Wow _ . He breathed out heavily at the thought and watched as Thomas tensed up at the noise, tearing his eyes away from the television to stare at the human curiously. Alexander just stared back, the corner of his mouth twitching up along with an eyebrow. He watched the demon press his lips into a thin line, thoroughly unamused at the smile the other wore on his face. 

“What’s with the smile?” He sneered. Alexander could have snorted at the tone, at the barely held back annoyance in the demon’s eyes. He worked very hard to keep the noise in though.

“What’s with the stick up your ass?” He retorted, to which the most confused and shocked look on Thomas’s face appeared. Alexander wanted to cry in laughter due to it, not yet used to how many phrases the demon wasn’t used to yet. 

“Excuse me, mortal? Why in Satan’s pits of Hell would there be- what-?” The demon began to sputter in what could only be described as mortification, and was then cut off by Alexander groaning rather loudly in annoyance.

“It’s a saying we ‘mortals’ use now. It’s not literal, idiot.” Hamilton paused for a moment before smirking, “Unless you want it to be, big guy.” 

Thomas went deathly quiet which made Alexander increasingly.. Uncomfortable. It was just a joke, but he felt as if the demon did not approve. For a creature that was known to be rather promiscuous, Jefferson seemed so old fashioned. His clothes, his demeanor. Everything about him was so prudish. He was like a five year old when his parents kissed in front of him. He seemed like that type of kid. He was probably homophobic too, in all honesty, due to the year he claimed he came from. Hamilton definitely would not be shocked in the slightest at that.

“Jesus, man, it was a joke. Chill.” Alexander huffed out, leaning back against the couch, redirecting his gaze to the screen of the TV where some housewives were arguing about.. Something? Maybe their husbands or whose clothes were better than the others? He really didn’t know. Thomas had been engrossed in the drama for whatever reason, but Alexander didn’t really see the point in watching women threaten to pull each other’s weaves out. He didn’t exactly give a shit. 

Thomas scoffed before he tapped the TV with his pointer finger rather roughly, and Alexander only heard a brief cackling before the TV shut off. The human blinked at that. 

“What the actual fuck-” He began, furrowing his eyebrows. Because. What the fuck? Did his TV break? Was it okay? Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head hurriedly before advancing on Hamilton, whacking his exposed thigh with the deep purple cane because his dumbass was wearing a ratty pair of loose shorts that exposed his olive skin. He cried out at the sudden pain, outrage spreading across his face, opening his mouth to shout at the demon. 

Thomas merely glared at him before pressing the cane to Alexander’s chest to interrupt whatever onslaught of words that would escape his lips this time, applying a bit of dangerous pressure. Alexander squawked with indignation at the action.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me! Respect the fucking deal!” The human spit out, grabbing the cane, then yelped as it BURNED his GODDAMN HAND. He let go immediately and his hands scrabbled against the cushions, blindly grabbing for legitimately anything he could touch.

Thomas laughed coldly. “You said I couldn’t steal your soul, you never said anything about hurting you,” He shoved the cane in deeper, “darlin’.” 

He hissed out the pet name and Alexander kicked his leg out, smacking his foot against Thomas’s knee. The demon stumbled back, his cane disappearing with a sudden gust of black dust as he cursed out loud. Alexander grabbed a pillow that his hand landed on and promptly threw it at the other man, eyes narrowed and a deep frown on his lips. 

Okay, this was definitely not how he expected his day to go. Definitely not. Getting attacked by a demon who he had sexual thoughts about a minute ago.  _ Hah. _

Thomas grabbed the cushion and it fell to the ground in a useless heap of ash. Hamilton couldn’t help it as he swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat at the action. What the fuck. Alexander could swear the demon’s eyes burned red as that happened and Alexander felt his body being forced to sit down. His back hit the couch roughly, arms at his sides as Thomas leaned forward threateningly. 

“Listen, I know you think you can put a muzzle on me and expect me not to fight you every step of the way, but that is not how things are going to work out with me.” He hissed out, one hand balled into a fists as his other was lifted, fingers outstretched. “You will not humiliate me any longer. You will not push and pull me around and act as if you are my superior, because I can beat you until you’re begging me to stop, heal you to get your hopes up, and then do it all over again mercilessly.”

“Fuck off.” Alexander spit out, but he could feel the undeniable tremble of fear in his fingers as he gripped onto the cushion he sat on, scowling up at Thomas with all of his might. 

“Am I understood?” Thomas merely replied with a cold look, his cane materializing back into existence in a blink of an eye. 

“Fuck. Off.” He growled. The look on Thomas’s face soured impossibly more and he moved forward, pushing the cane back into Alexander’s chest. 

“Am. I. Under. Stood?” He punctuated each word with a sharp push. 

“Holy-” Hamilton inhaled sharply. “Okay okay! Goddamn, it was just a fucking joke!”

Thomas’s face twisted at the words and snapped back, “It was demeaning and rather crude.” His cane disappeared and suddenly, Alex could breath with ease once more. He relaxed against the cushions, closing his eyes as he heaved in, gulping in oxygen. 

“It was demeaning and rather crude.” Alexander muttered under his breath, mocking the demon out of pure pettiness.

“What did I just say?” Thomas snapped, raising his hand up, poised to snap his fingers together to bring that dumbass cane back into existence. Alexander pressed his lips together in a thin line, opening his eyes and turning his head the other way in the midst of his silence. The demon smirked to himself, satisfied with the silent answer. He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped away. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Later that night, Alexander reminisced on his whimsical fucking day. Meeting a demon, wanting to fuck him, then being  _ assaulted _ by that same person. Well, not a person.  _ Demon.  _ He wouldn’t get used to that for a while, because Thomas did in fact look so.. Human. Where were his horns? His wings? Did demons have scales? Was his image just an illusion to trick him? He stripped off his shirt, hands grabbing the hem of his shorts to pull them off before Thomas appeared in his chair. 

Hamilton shrieked impossibly loud, the sound piercing through the quiet of his janky apartment, yanking his shorts back up his thighs as he made eye contact with Thomas. The demon stared back at him, baffled and Alexander’s face began to burn up with heat. His hands fidgeted on the hem of his shorts and he watched Thomas flick his eyes down his body, an unreadable expression in his eyes.    
  
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” The demon stated.    
  
And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. I didn't update for a m o n t h. But thas okay. I had personal things that suddenly fuckin hit me in the face, but I'm totally good now. Back to regular updates!:) 
> 
> Y'all got this chapter today because I felt bad. Have fun with it haha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas goes on a walk.

Alexander stayed teetering on the edge of a cliff the rest of the night, unwilling to admit he was afraid. This…  _ thing  _ came into his home, - unwelcome might he add - threatened him and then disappeared. He had every right to be nervous, which he wasn’t but if he  _ was _ then it would be perfectly understandable. 

He nursed a mug of coffee, despite being aware that the caffeine wouldn’t allow him the sweet relief of sleep until the middle of the night. It was currently 10 pm, and Jefferson - the  _ demon _ , he reminded himself with a shudder - had been gone for a few hours now. A large part of him was overjoyed to see him go, telling him to spread the salt across his doorway with a devilish grin and never allow him entry again. Yet for some reason, a smaller - yet louder - part of him advised him against it. He allowed his mind to wander back to the script he had summoned Jefferson from.

_This_ _demon is known to be aggressive and will attack if provoked. Be cautious._

Alexander knew by now that provoking Jefferson earned him being shoved around, which he hadn’t allowed. He had a cross on standby sure, but what if the  _ thing _ got to him before he even had the chance to bless himself with the thought of scrambling to the kitchen. He sighed, never one to be so nervous over another being. Supernatural or not. Of course before he believed that all things he couldn’t see didn’t exist, ghosts, demons, the lot. Now he knew it wasn’t true, a fact he was slowly coming to terms with. 

Raising the cup to his lips again, Alexander sighed out his nose with exasperation, drawing his brain back to him like an overactive dog. The mug hit the table with an almost inaudible thud as he brought one hand up to rub at his temples. What had his once normal life become?

Was it ever truly average?

Alexander wasn’t so sure anymore. It disturbed him, he was  _ always _ sure of  _ everything _ . Now that this  _ thing _ had weaselled its way into his previously comfortable life, it had flipped. His friends had been right.  _ Hercules _ has been right. He laughed at that, out of all of his buds, Hercules was never regarded as the smart one. More the… ‘over imaginative in all the worst ways’ one. 

How queer.

-

New York quite literally never slept. 

Thomas discovered this as he skirted down streets, up 5th Avenue and towards 6th. When he was alive - and he means  _ truly  _ alive - he often wandered the halls of his home, out onto his acres of land and around the rolling fields to clear his head. This wasn’t the ideal environment to be walking, thus far he had been subject to witness a mugging and what seemed to be an assault in an alleyway. He didn’t intervene, there was no need. They were practically doing his job for him.

The saying, “ _ Hell will freeze over before I do that _ ,” was always a peculiar one to him. Hell wasn’t exactly a frosty place, thus it could never “freeze over.” It hit him suddenly, as he narrowly avoided treading on what appeared to be a hyperaemic needle, that the whole point of the phrase was the fact that a person would never do as they had been asked. He actually laughed at his own obliviousness and shook his head lightly. The raveonettes curls bobbed enthusiastically by his jawline, overtaken by a kind spirit which granted them life. 

Thomas stayed clear of alleys, running the point of his nails over the cold stone of a bar with a flashing neon sign. It certainly wasn’t his style, and it never would be. Too dingy and dirty for someone of his high strung caliber. As he stared up at the shining pink words plastered across the bar, trying his best to read them, someone - a drunken hillbilly - exited the building and smacked into his shoulder.

The man came in at around 5’8 by Jefferson’s guesses, standing at just above his shoulder height and simply  _ reeking  _ of stale beer and cheap liquor. Thomas felt his toes curl subconsciously just at the stench, but painted himself as a pinnacle of passiveness. He stared up at the demon - whom he presumed to be a boilerplate person - and even in the darkness, he could see his eyes shining. “Watch it, slendy,” the guy chuckled at his own pathetic excuse for a joke, drunken laughter echoing around the relatively empty streets. Booming music and cheers from the bar -  _ a gentleman’s club,  _ the realisation slapped Thomas across the face like a sack of bricks - and reverberated around his ears, banging on his eardrums like a gong. 

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, lips quirking into a curious smile. Perhaps he could do his job while he was here after all. While he wasn’t sure what this ‘ _ slendy _ ’ was, he could all but assume it to be some modernistic slang insult he was yet to encounter. “My apologies, sir,” Thomas drawls. He exudes charm, drips it from ever pour in sultry waves. A malicious glint flashed through his pupils, smothered by the blackness of the night in a snap as he brushed a hand across his chin and jawline. “Perhaps allow me to… buy you one last drink in my condolences?” He met the mans gaze, tilts his head to the side ever so slightly and gives him a grin.

He huffed, gruff and laden with alcohol. “‘M supposed to be gettin’ home,” Thomas faltered, not wishing to use violence to get what he wanted. However, if the moment arose, he wouldn’t feel frightened or empathetic enough not to shove a mortal around. “But, I suppose one drink can’t hurt!”

“Excellent,” Thomas practically purred, his tone flipping to match his words, low and rumbling, thick with hidden mirth. While the seedy bar this man proceeds to drag him into is far from his liking, the demon is forced to suck in his gut and thank Satan that he can be in and out in ten minutes tops. 

The barstool is gratefully uncomfortable, and Thomas has been perched on it like some pet bird for the past fifteen minters, arduously attempting to steer the conversation to a place of questioning. Alas, every superstitious question he tossed into the ring was booed out, kicked to the curb and forgotten as the man he had hoped to thieve from downed his third drink. His words were more slurred than ever before, and Thomas wished for a magical prophet to grant him escape.

Societal pressures commanded he ordered himself a drink too, which is why he sipped a small glass of whiskey. The beverage catapulted him back to his younger days, before he became a timeless being, partially-alive only to serve as a soul waiter. He had to drag his mind from the depths before it sank, forced himself to tune back into the drunken ramblings of his newest victim. 

“My good sir,” Thomas interrupted with a flick of his wrist in front of the man's face, “I have rather the question for you.” Bringing his hands together swiftly, he cracked his knuckles. It appeared he had secured the human’s attention under lock and key. “If you were to trade your soul for anything, anything at all, what would you choose?”

The question stumps the man in his tracks, a small amount of whatever fruity lager dribbled down his chin and drops onto the bar, and Thomas compared it to his own tears. 

_ Puddling on the ground as he races down the dirt, chasing the clock to get back home. The news can’t be true. Not her. Not his Martha. The door to his momentous manner flies open with the fervor it takes for him to throw it open. It’s certain that some poor servant is yelling after him, but it sounds as though they’re far underwater as his feet slam off the wooden flooring of his stairs.  _

_ “Martha!” _

“Probably that anyone I wanted would sleep with me,” the man admitted with a laugh after a while, stroking his chin and licking the lager off of his fingers. “What about you, my man?”

Thomas blinked his way out of his thoughts, kicking himself from his own brain and locking it up. “Me? I don’t have a soul to give away anymore.” The man laughed heartily at that, and shook his head. He gulped back more of his drink, and Thomas seriously considers smacking the glass from his hand and sending it smashing to the floor. Wholeheartedly believing the human is well into the parameters of bone-crushingly drunk, to the point where he certainly won’t remember any of these events in the morning. Sure, it’s an easy target, mind-numbingly almost, but it’s been  _ so long _ since he’s done his job. “My good sir, what if I told you I could make you irresistible to anyone, and all it takes is a handshake?” 

“I’d say  _ sign me up! _ ” He finished his lager, glass hitting the bar with a soft _ thud. _ He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and sniffed.

“Shake my hand, and I’ll give you anything you’ve ever wanted,” Thomas purred, and his gaze darkens once more as he extends a hand. Without so much as a shred of common sense, the man reached out and grasped the demons hand, shaking it with a ferocity only possessed by men not knowing what they’re getting themselves into. 

The mirth in his pupils only grows and shines brighter as he releases the man and stands. “Thank you.” He whispered, breezing past the flustered individual and out into the streets. It’ll take a while for the effects to hit him, and presumably too drunk to know what act he’s committed, Thomas beamed. The man would understand the implications when he finds himself in Hell. 

_ Martha would be so disappointed. _

The thought marched up to him and punched him across the face angrily, breaking the lock on his mind. He gasped at the wind hitting him and frowned suddenly. The pride and joy of work had left him, the winter coat it provided blowing off in the midnight breeze. He scowled and continued walking, looking up to the stars in the sky. They aren’t as bright as he recalled them being before, _ way before _ , but then again - pollution wasn’t such a massive deal at that point. Horse shit on the streets was the biggest issue he had whilst alive. A cab raced past him and sent him stepping back onto the pavement. He cursed under his breath, flipping the car off for almost hitting him.

_ Why should he care what Martha thought? _

She’s 400 years long gone, there’s no reason for him to care anymore. She doesn’t know where he is, what he does, what he  _ is. _ Surely not, she couldn’t know what he was. He didn’t want her to know what he was. What he did. She would be so disappointed.

Satan, why did that thought keep attacking him?!

Life sucked. There was no point without her now, 400 years went by so slow without her. 

_ Satan, he was in deep. _ _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooo thOmAs
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated!


	7. Update.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m sorry

Okay. This is going to be rushed and I am sincerely sorry. From the time we last updated and so forth, I entered a horrible depressive episode, and I did try and take my life multiple times. Many things happened, and I honestly fell out of contact with Jefferoni, and lost touch with the Hamilton fandom. I don’t know if I will ever finish this. Maybe one day I will come back to it, but I am not sure. I just wanna say that I am so sorry to keep you guys waiting for something that is probably never going to be finished.


End file.
